


i'm a lilac and you are my sun (and every season i need you to come back)

by kataklysmikiri



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Angst, Bucket List, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Keith has Cancer, Kinda, M/M, Orphan Keith (Voltron), Orphan Shiro, Pining Lance (Voltron), Slow Burn, Traveling, broganes, lance overthinks a lot, things are about to get Very Gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 01:41:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15546819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kataklysmikiri/pseuds/kataklysmikiri
Summary: Keith is diagnosed with cancer and spends his final days on a road trip with his best friends. Lance doesn't know what to think, but it's truly a fine time for his feelings to rear their ugly head.





	i'm a lilac and you are my sun (and every season i need you to come back)

**Author's Note:**

> the title comes from bloom later by jesse rutherford 
> 
> if you are sensitive to the topics of cancer or death then please do not read this (i am in no way romanticizing cancer of death and i am extremely sorry if it comes off that way, that is not my intention. i have tried to describe the reality and physical/mental damage of cancer to the best of my abilities).
> 
> i began writing this before Shiro was confirmed as canon gay (or queer, i don't think it's been explicitly confirmed what he is) and before Adam was confirmed his partner but trust me i would've added my mans real quick if i had known djsfj
> 
> this is still a work in progress (which i plan to finish and have multiple chapters already finished) so please 4give me if uploading is erratic (not that any of you would care because i am a trash author LMaoAOooOOo)
> 
> i love voltron and keith and lance and everyone ok thank you please enjoy or else i will (ง ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°)ง

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith reveals his plans of taking everyone on a road trip and Lance has a difficult time figuring out where they stand.

Only thirty-nine minutes after he's completed his final test for the school year, his mind already relaxing into a deep, much-needed coma as soon as he hit his bed, Lance’s phone begins chiming erratically. He groans, deciding against silencing his ringer (He wanted nothing less than to see the look on Allura's face again from the last time he'd silenced his phone on her), and unlocks his phone.

 _**Keith: i need all of you to come over to my house right now. it's important!!!!** _  
_**Hunk: Omw rn.** _  
_**Allura: I'll see you all there! xo** _  
_**Pidge: anything for you, sweet cheeks ;)** _

He won’t allow his grumpiness to go unvoiced; it'd be a crime against humanity.

 _**Lance: the last time you asked us all to come to your house, you made us watch paul blart mall cop with you because you said it wouldn't be funny if you watched it alone** _  
_**Pidge: i dunno man, last time he only used 2 exclamation points** _  
_**Keith: i'm serious lance, i really need to talk to you guys about something** _

Lance rolls his eyes. Keith can really be dramatic when he wants to.

 _**Lance: but i just got into my really comfortable pajamas :(((** _  
_**Shiro: It's serious, Lance. I think you should be here to hear what he has to say.** _

Lance frowns at that. Shiro usually never talks in the group chat, and when he needs to say something, he gets Keith to relay the message. It must actually be somewhat important if Shiro personally has to say something about it.

_**Lance: fine, i’ll be there. but i’m not happy about it.** _

Lance begrudgingly pulls himself out of bed and gets dressed.

*

The overwhelmingly somber mood of the room hits him in the face enough to make him feel like an asshole for complaining over a text message.

“Sorry I’m late guys...” Lance feels the heat rise in his cheeks as everyone stares at him, “There was just... so much traffic.”

“You don’t even have a car,” Keith is quick to point out as his eyes fall to the Starbucks cup in Lance’s hand. He realizes too late that Keith’s eyes are red-rimmed and glazed over.

He takes a look around the room, feeling like the villain in a movie. Pidge is whispering soft and slow to a hunched-over Hunk, his hands cupping his face. Matt is staring at the floor like there’s some horrific scene playing out there that Lance can’t see, jaw dropped and eyes unnerving. Allura, perched on Keith’s desk, kicks her feet sadly as the dingy light bulb in the middle of the ceiling catches tears teeming in her eyes. Keith, sitting in the center of his bed with his legs crossed neatly in front of him, a blanket draped over them, plays with the frayed edges of his bedspread.

Then, there’s Shiro, expression unclear and stony, staring at Lance with a crinkle in his brow. He stands beside Keith’s bed with his arms crossed over his chest.

“What... going on, guys?” Lance asks, afraid of whatever answer may come his way.

Shiro clears his throat, and is the first to speak.

“Well, we’ve started talking, thinking you were never going to show up. Everyone’s already heard the news, except for you. I think it should come from Keith himself this time,” Lance chances a glance over at Keith, who’s obviously avoiding making eye contact with him, “If he’s okay with it.”

Keith looks up at him, close to tears himself. Lance almost wants to tell him no, that he didn’t have to know right now, that he could tell him later when he wasn’t looking so worse for wear. But, the fact of the matter was that Lance already has an idea of what he was going to tell him, and Keith will never not look this pained to tell his story.

“I woke up with a really bad headache a couple of days ago- Tuesday, I think. Just, like... this really bad stinging in my head that wouldn’t go away. I tried to get over it and take painkillers, but they weren’t working, so Shiro took me to the hospital. They took an MRI scan of my brain, knowing my medical history and everything, and...” Keith swallows, closes his eyes, and murmurs something to himself before saying, “The tumor grew a lot more since last month. They told me they couldn’t give me higher doses of my medicine, because they’ve already been doing that and any more would be lethal, and we couldn’t afford starting up chemotherapy again- or any other form of treatment, actually, which would really only be futile at this point. There’s nothing they can do, and it’s only a matter of time before-” Keith stops.

“Jesus Christ, Keith. I’m sorry, man,” Lance huffs, carding his fingers through his hair. A shock of pain ran through his head, and _fuck_. This was exactly what Lance was expecting as soon as he walked into the room and saw everyone’s faces, yet he still couldn’t prepare himself for that. To actually hear those words coming from Keith’s mouth instead of merely imagining it... they were on far ends of the spectrum of surreal and absurd and-

Lance decided to get Starbucks and walk an hour late into the hardest conversation he’d ever have to hear thus far in his life. Just like the dickhead he is.

Keith had been diagnosed the summer before they began their first year of college at UT, while they were all fresh out of high school and living their best lives. The first time they’d all come together that summer was to visit Keith in the hospital after he finished his first session of chemo. Lance’s first thought was of how thin his hair seemed already.

That was the same day he’d smiled up at each of them crowded around his bed, dizzy and practically high off his ass from the medicine, and told them he didn’t want them to treat him any differently. That he didn’t need or crave their pity. It was the first time in his and Lance’s three years of knowing each other (and forming something akin to a friendship- but not exactly) that Lance would’ve openly admitted he admired Keith if anyone asked.

So, that’s exactly what they all did. As soon as he was released from the hospital, newly-bald and ready to continue taking on the world, it was almost as if he didn’t have a malignant tumor in his head. They took Keith to the beach to celebrate the very next day, and he dug Lance’s head deep into the sand for trying to bury him while he took a nap. The cancer made him weaker, yes, but not weak enough to turn down or lose a fight.

That person seemed like a far cry from the boy sitting in front of Lance now, eyes sullen and resembling more of a skeleton than someone who used to professionally fence five days a week.

“I’m in what they call the ‘end-of-life’ phase. I didn’t want to spend my last weeks, or days, in hospice, so they just let me go with a few months’ supply of Avastin injections.”

In their years of knowing each other, Keith never let on that he was scared. He’s rational. He’s strong-headed. He always knew he’d never fall off a roller coaster no matter how high it was or how loud people screamed. He always knew his plane would never be that one in eleven-million to crash. He always knew he’d pass his final exam and never dwelled over it.

But, now, Keith looks, sounds, seems afraid. He isn’t supposed to be afraid.

Lance doesn’t know what to think. His friend is going to die.

Lance considers making a break for the bathroom, just to heave in front of the toilet.

“They can’t just do that, right? They can’t just leave you like this. I mean- there’s got to be some other form of treatment, some other medicine out there you haven’t tried-”

Keith looks firmly at something on the ground, his voice wavering yet loud, “There’s nothing they _can_ do about it, Lance. Wasting more money on treatments that aren’t going to fix me isn’t going to help anyone-”

Shiro places a firm hand on Keith’s shoulder, giving him a pointed look. He takes over from there.

“But that’s not the only reason why we wanted to get you guys all gathered here. Since Keith decided against spending his time at hospice, a nurse recommended one of those wish granting foundations. They pretty much fund the wishes terminally ill adults make to give hope or closure. We signed Keith up for it, and he was able to make a wish.”

This seems to calm everyone down a bit, as Hunk lifts his head and asks, voice hoarse, “What did you wish for?”

Keith folds his hands in his lap and turns them over, studying his own skin. If Lance weren’t watching, he would’ve missed the slight flush that rises to his cheeks when he says, “An RV.”

Pidge looks over at him, and quirks an eyebrow, “An RV? What for?”

“Well, you guys are my best friends, and I kind of wanted to... go out on a bang, you know? So I spent all of yesterday making a bucket list,” He lifts his head, giving everyone the first genuine smile Lance has seen from anyone today, “I want you guys to come with me and check it all off.”

This would be the second time in their time of knowing each other, Keith and Lance, that if someone were to ask, Lance would’ve admitted he respected Keith. A lot.

Even at the end of his reign, he’d be selfless.

“Oh my God, _Keith_ ,” Allura croaks, bursting into tears and hopping down from her place on his desk. She walks over to him and tackles him in a slow motion fall to the mattress behind them, sobbing into his hair.

As every one calms, the mood in the room shifts to something much more upbeat, as is the usual with their friend group. Keith beckons Allura not to grab at the list, saying it’d be ‘a surprise for everyone- well, except for me and Shiro’. Pidge fondly teases him, guessing at how cheesy some of his ideas must be, like going to Disneyland, to which Keith squawks and argues that ‘no, Disneyland is not cliché and it’s understandable to want to visit’. At the mention of going to a beach, Matt panics over whether or not 50 SPF sunscreen would protect him from the summer sun. Hunk dwells out loud over the best person he could trust to watch his dogs for the next few weeks through the almost absurd amount of salty tears dripping into his mouth as he continues to cry.

Lance looks over to Shiro, and sees him smiling over at their friends. He figures it’d be a good time to pull him aside.

“Can I talk to you? In the hallway?” He asks, low enough so only Shiro can hear him. Shiro nods and follows after him, leaving the door cracked open behind them, everyone’s voices sounding muffled and farther away.

“What did you want to talk about?” Shiro asks, dubious. Lance can’t blame him- he has every right to be mad at him.

“I just wanted to say, first, I’m sorry. To you and Keith. For what I said in the group chat earlier- I wouldn’t have said that if I knew this would be what Keith was talking about. I feel like such a shithead for saying that, and I would take it back if I could. And I’m sorry for being late, too, I thought it’d be funny to spite him-”

Shiro raises a hand between them, silencing Lance. He just has that kind of power- over everyone, really.

“I get that you’re sorry, Lance. I understand you made a mistake. But I don’t think it’s me you should be apologizing to. Why aren’t you talking to Keith?”

Lance sighs and clears the ceaseless train of thoughts in his head.

“Because- I don’t know. I felt like I upset him, and talking to him wouldn’t make it any better. I was also wondering...” He scratches his head and feels the insecurity bubbling in his stomach, “Why am I even here? Why did Keith want me here? I mean, I was so sure he hated my guts, and I didn’t even know he considered me his friend. And now he wants to spend the last weeks of his life with me? And the rest of you guys, of course, but- I thought I would just be a burden on him this entire trip. He wouldn’t be able to truly enjoy it if I was there. I just feel like he’s making a mistake by inviting me.”

Shiro’s jaw muscles clench and unclench visibly under his skin. It’s enough to make Lance consider running for the hills.

“Have you ever considered that this whole ‘rivalry’ thing you’re always bringing up, this thing you’ve fabricated in your head for some reason, is one-sided? From what I can tell, Keith is only takes the bait when you push and challenge him, but he doesn’t truly hate you- You don’t hate him, do you?”

Lance shakes his head, frantically, afraid of offending him. “No, of course not.”

“Okay then. I can’t be exactly sure of his mindset, or his reasons for wanting you on this trip, but I’d start by thinking it’s because he _wants_ you there with the rest of us. He _wants_ to spend time with you.”

That shoots through Lance like a bullet, straight through the chest. Keith? Choosing Lance, among everyone he knows (which, arguably, isn’t a lot of people), as one of the few people he likes enough to want them around until the very end?

He was always sure that there was _at least_ a little bit of dislike there, somewhere between them. He’d even thought he didn’t like Keith, himself.

But what kind of person takes every chance they can to impress their enemy? To go out of their way to seem worthwhile to them? To spend nearly every waking moment around them, bickering or not?

Lance has been deluding himself right from the start.

“But, please stop with those whole ‘rivalry’ thing, okay? I know Keith said that we shouldn’t treat him with little kid gloves- which you still shouldn’t, of course, the bickering and teasing and stuff, that’s fine as long as he’s fine. But don’t try and jostle him as much. He’s not as energetic as he once was. He loses his sense when he competes, and he could really get hurt with some of the stuff you guys used to do,” Shiro turns to leave, before adding, “Just be careful with him.”

“I will, of course I will,” Shiro reaches for the door and is about to open it when Lance stops him with a hand on his shoulder, “And- can you not tell anyone we had this conversation, please? Especially not Keith.”

“I promise I won’t.”

“Thank you,” Lance sighs in relief.

When they walk back into the room, it was just as they’d left it. No one seems to have noticed they left. But when Lance steps inside and catches Keith’s eye, he offers him a small smile. Keith looks at him, something Lance can’t read written in the planes of his face. He looks away without smiling back at him, which. Ouch.

It kind of negates everything Shiro just said, even if it’s just the simple action of looking away without returning a smile. It says a lot. What if everything Shiro just said was pure bullshit, just something to make Lance feel better?

Lance feels that same bubble of insecurity rise up in him once again. He shouldn’t be overthinking it.

He gets into the swing of things quickly, jumping into the conversation and teasing Matt for needing such a powerful sunscreen, but the conversation with Shiro and that minuscule moment with Keith underlies everything and makes itself known at the back of his head, making it so he just can’t forget it. In the middle of asking Hunk why he can’t just ask Shay to watch over his dogs for him, (“She’ll probably think I’m lazy and need her to do everything for me, do you know how bad of an impression that’ll leave?”) he looks over and sees Keith lean back and ask Shiro something. Refined in the art of reading lips, ever since his days of cheating in middle school, he makes out:

“What did you and Lance talk about?”

He holds his breath, waiting for Shiro to tell him all about what Lance said. About how he was sure Keith hated him. He awaits Keith’s response, something along the lines of ‘well, he wasn’t wrong.’

Shiro shrugs his shoulders, feigning indifference, and says, “Nothing important.”

*

Ten hours and thirty-seven minutes after he’d left Keith’s house, Lance is waiting in an empty parking lot in a t-shirt and batman pajama pants, a suitcase propped up against his leg, a pillow clutched against his chest, and an old headband pulled taut around his head, keeping his hair out of his face. His eyelids are drooping, and he is swaying in place. Another gust of wind, and he’s sure to fall face-first into the cement.

“Maybe he was just kidding about the whole RV thing,” Allura says from beside him, eyes closed, sitting on her suitcase, ivory hair pulled into a bun, “Maybe he’s halfway to Disneyland on a plane already. And he just told us to come out here so he could catch us on security camera footage and laugh at us in our pajamas.”

“That’d be kind of an evil genius thing to do,” Lance murmurs, wishing he could’ve brought his bed along, too, “I wouldn’t put it above him. I’d give him props.”

Just then, they hear the sound of footsteps approaching them from behind.

Matt, Hunk, and Pidge all walk towards them, Hunk looking exponentially more excited than the other two. He rolls his suitcase behind him with one hand and waves at Lance and Allura with the other.

“Hey guys! Where’s Keith and Shiro?”

“Haven’t seen ‘em-” Lance would’ve began, if it wasn’t for the deafening rumble suddenly drowning out his words. They look around and watch as a large RV rolls through the entrance way and towards them. And, of course, sticking out of the sunroof, is an ecstatic Keith.

He’s far from the person he’d been just hours ago, telling his friends his chances of dying have increased tenfold, that there was nothing they could do but sit and watch. His grin is visible from even here, yards away.

Lance almost feels like he should look away, like Keith is too bright to look straight into, rivaling the sun itself.

“Hi, guys!” Keith waves at them as the RV comes to a halt in front of them, a vexed Shiro sitting just behind the tinted windows of the front seat, “Sorry for the wait. I made Shiro stop around the corner until everyone was here so I didn’t have to repeat my entrance. I see you all got the pajamas memo.”

It’s then that Lance noticed the wolf-eared hood pulled up and over his head, stray strands of hair slipping out from beneath it. He mentally kicks himself for deciding against wearing his own penguin onesie- he didn’t realize there’d be competition.

“It sounds like your RV is literally about to shit itself and give up,” Pidge says, looking at the RV like it could explode any second.

“I know,” Keith answers, looking down at it, “I wasn’t the first person to wish for an RV from the foundation, so it’s definitely been used more than once. But it’s free- until I damage it, at least- and we can’t afford anything better, so it’ll have to do. Get on so I can give you guys a tour.”

They walk towards the RV, more bounce in their step than before.

“I got it. I’m fine,” Keith says to Shiro as they pour inside, who is standing beside him, trying to help him down from the seats he was standing on, “This is the... living room, I guess. There’s a weird smell in the fridge and I don’t know where the remote for the TV is, but at least _there is_ a fridge and a TV.

Two worn, leather couches across from each other pushed up against either wall make up the small walkway that leads to a small kitchen on the left, (which is only just a wood island, a stained fridge that reeks of something Lance can’t identify, and a single counter top) and a hallway on the right. On the peeling wall that separates the two is a TV attached to the ceiling. There’s a crack in the screen that runs diagonally from the top right corner to the bottom left. It’s tuned to a static channel.

“Behind us is the driver and passenger’s seat, where Shiro, oh _so_ graciously, has volunteered to spend most of the time when we’re on the road,” Shiro begrudgingly turns in his seat and gives a small wave and smile, before turning back around, “and whoever feels the need to entertain him can sit in the passenger’s seat. Back here,” Keith leads everyone towards the hallway, “is the bathroom and only bedroom,” He first opens the door to their left, which showcases a tight bathroom large enough to hold one person at a time, “The bathtub is also a shower. Clog the toilet, and I’ll be forced to exterminate you. This last door over here is the bedroom.”

He opens the final door, which leads to an underwhelming motel-like room. A queen-sized bed with a brown comforter, a washing machine with a mysterious substance died on it, drawn curtains, and a closet.

“Like I said before, it’s not much, but it’s all we have. If we’re going to be spending the next few weeks in here, we might as well get used to it now.”

“What are you talking about? This is awesome, Keith. This is going to be so great,” Hunk says as he walks over to the window and peers out at the empty parking lot.

“Yeah, I agree with Hunk, and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but where are we going to sleep? I mean, I don’t think the couches are going to be enough for all of us,” Matt says as Keith sits on the edge of the bed.

“Shiro and I bought sleeping bags beforehand, don’t worry about it,” Keith claps his hands excitedly, as if he’s just remembered something, “Also, we’re going to rotate who gets the bed every night, so everyone has a chance to sleep on it.”

As if on cue, Shiro comes up behind them and stood in the doorway, wearing something of a warning in his frown.

“Keith, we agreed that-”

Something akin to yesterday flashes across Keith’s face at that, wiping the smile away and replacing it with subdued anger.

“We didn’t agree on anything, Shiro. It’s not fair if I-”

“-It’s not up for debate. You’re not sleeping on the couches,” Shiro says, with such jurisdiction it would’ve stopped anyone’s argument dead in its tracks. But, it doesn’t stop Keith.

“Can we talk about this later? And not in front of our friends next time, so they don’t have to see how much you baby me like I’m something fragile that can’t sleep on a fucking couch.”

The dead silence that follows is enough to make Lance’s skin crawl. Like he’s standing in the middle of a battlefield as shots from either side whir over his head.

Shiro says nothing as he leaves and returns to the front of the RV. But, like the flip of a switch, Keith is back to the way he was just moments ago, animated and bubbly and as if nothing’s wrong.

“Well, now that Robocop is gone, you’re probably wondering why I made you all wear pajamas in the first place, and why we’re starting at three AM. I didn’t want you guys to know what exactly was on my bucket list, because I felt it’d be way more exciting if you didn’t know what was coming. For our first stop, I wanted to do something I’ve always dreamed of doing when I watched movies from, like, the seventies and eighties.”

Pidge scrunches up her nose, “Banish the sexually-confused from your home and livelihood in the name of Jesus?”

“What? No- I was going to say that I wanted to go to a drive-in theater and watch a scary movie.”

“That’s the smartest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’m majoring in aerospace engineering,” Matt says.

“What movie is it?” Lance asks, and it’s the first thing he’s said to Keith all night. He’d been following Shiro’s directions to a T, and has been trying to be as least of a inconvenience for Keith as possible, which has just been him shutting his mouth and keeping out of his way.

“Oh, well, I searched for theaters that were nearby, and found one that’s showing Nightmare On Elm Street in a few hours.”

“I can’t wait to hear Hunk scream,” Allura says as Hunk’s face goes pallid at the news.

“Well, guys,” Keith claps his hands once, instantly getting everyone’s attention, “Settle in, get comfy, because it’s going to be a while until we get there.

And everyone does just this. Within thirty minutes, suitcases are open and clothes are strewn everywhere, on the floor, hanging from the television, stuffed in the single closet, even despite Shiro’s pleas to ‘be organized, just pick a space and put _your_ clothes in it, and _only_ your clothes’. Pidge and Matt’s potatoes chips are in a pile on the counter besides Hunk’s neatly stacked and packaged home-made meals. Allura is ignoring anything and everything else and is trying to investigate where the smell in the fridge is coming from and how to eliminate it. Shiro has abandoned trying assuming control in the chaos and is now listening to Siri over the commotion as she gives him road directions.

“What about if we rewire the cruise actuator to go into the terminal adapter first before connecting it to the wall receptacle?” Hunk says to a concentrated Pidge as they’re hunched over the TV’s cable box. Lance waits impatiently with the TV remote (they’d found it stuffed between two of the couch cushions) in his hand, pointed at the screen. They are trying to hack the box to get premium channels for free and call on Lance to test it out each time they think they find the solution.

“That might actually work,” Pidge says, who apparently does just that.

“Can I press the button now, guys? My pizza rolls are getting cold,” Lance says as he looks longingly over at his pizza rolls still in the microwave, looking perfect and pristine in all their gooey deliciousness.

“Hold on, just a little more... Okay. Fire it up, Lance!”

Lance clicks his way to HBO. They cheer when Jon Snow’s beautiful face showed up on the screen without a prompt asking for the fifteen dollars they don’t have.

When Lance finishes his pizza rolls, he opens his suitcase and finds the toothbrush and toothpaste he packed and finds his way to the bathroom through the minefield of clothes and trash on the floor, but not before announcing ‘my toothbrush is the blue one, please, _dear God_ , do not use it unless you crave death,’ to everyone.

Lance puts his toothbrush in the holder and is relieved to find it’s the only blue one and is conspiring on whether or not to hog the couch for himself, or play nice and sleep in a sleeping bag when he stops in the hallway.

The light from the living room just barely reaches the bedroom, so it’s almost completely shrouded in darkness, but Lance can make out the shape of a lump beneath the bed’s covers, hair pooled out over a pillow.

At first, it was hard adjusting plans in their friend group to accommodate Keith’s erratic sleeping schedule, with him needing multiple naps throughout the day and feeling more run-down all the time. But they planned around it and suddenly trips to the movie theater and McDonald’s at midnight were their norm.

Lance realizes that it’s going to get a lot harder- not just for Keith, but for everyone to see him this way. It was hard for everyone to see Keith have to stop every now and again to catch his breath at Six Flags. It was hard to watch him in pain after each roller coaster left him with the worst headache. But it was great to see him power through all of that and come out on the other side.

But here they were again, at square one. It was just going to get worse from here.

Lance cringes at the sound of Hunk’s loud laughter, which almost seems amplified now that he knows Keith is trying to take a nap.

He glances back over to his obscured figure, hidden in the dark, and closes the door very, very softly.

*

Lance and Hunk pull the couches outside and sit them side-by-side on the grass so they face the screen. Shiro pulls the awning out so not even the light from the moon and overhead lights can reach them.

They all settle in, and Lance is sitting in between Matt and Hunk with Pidge sitting by his feet, a blanket thrown over her body. On the other couch sits Keith, Shiro, and Allura, with another blanket thrown over all of their laps.

Lance feels a thrill course through his veins as the movie begins. He’s been to countless movies with them all, but never a horror movie. He can’t wait to see their reactions.

“You just had to pick the goriest movie ever, huh?” Matt murmurs as Glen is sucked in through the bed and a geyser of blood erupts from it. Keith chuckles darkly. Lance can feel Hunk shift uncomfortably next to him.

“You _scared_?” Allura mocks with a grin.

Hunk shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Of course not. It’s just cheap scares and disgusting scenes. Not scary.”

Lance pats his back supportingly, even if he’s been hearing Hunk quietly whimpering into the armchair this entire time. But Lance won’t let them know that. “Yeah, Hunk here’s been handling the scares real well. Can’t say the same for you, ‘Lura.”

Allura scoffs incredulously, “Pfft. Are you kidding me? Me? Scared? Of _this_ movie? You’re mad, Lance.” She adds extra emphasis to the ‘ohnce’ to spite him, knowing full well he hates the disgusting pronunciation of his name.

Both of their words are immediately contradicted when Freddy jumps up from behind Nancy’s bed after she’s had a dream and Allura and Hunk let out identical screams. Hunk falls off the couch and Allura latches onto Shiro’s arm, digging her face in his neck. Shiro cackles and lets her hold on.

Matt stands up from beside him. “Uh, I’m going to go get some popcorn. Does anyone want anything?”

“I’ll go with you, I’m getting kind of hungry,” Lance says, his stomach growling conveniently to prove his point. He’s getting up from the couch when someone calls his name.

“Hey, Lance,” Keith says, and when Lance looks at him, he’s staring right back at him, mischief in his eye and a smirk playing his lips, “Bet you can’t beat me to the concession stand.”

Lance wouldn’t admit it, but he feels relief at that. He didn’t want things to be weird between them after all this, and he was sure Keith would regret having him on this trip in the first place. Knowing they’re still Lance and Keith, neck and neck, is almost like a reassuring pat on the back.

But that relief is ripped away when he sees Shiro’s face change in his periphery. When he looks over at him, he’s staring pointedly at him. Lance thinks back to their conversation and the promise he’d made. He wouldn’t overexert Keith, no matter what.

They’re both looking at him expectantly.

“I don’t know, Keith. It’s dark and... I don’t wanna, y’know, trip over anything.”

Apparently practice never made perfect in this case, because after all these years, Lance is still terrible at lying.

“Oh...” Keith says, the disappointment dripping through his teeth as he sinks back into the couch. Lance can’t help but feel guilty as Shiro nods at him with approval.

He gets up from his seat and escapes from the situation as terror-filled screams from the movie fill the lot.

“What was that?” Matt asks as soon as they’re out of earshot from the rest of them, “You never back down from a challenge with Keith.

“I- Shiro told me I shouldn’t do that stuff anymore. Try and push his limits with stupid dares.”

“He told us not to treat him like a kid.”

“I know!” Lance scratches the back of his neck as they approach the concession stands, “But Shiro’s right. He could get seriously hurt. I don’t think he realizes that he doesn’t have the energy that he used to. I mean- He said he quit fencing because he got bored of it, but he’s never been happier doing anything else. It was really because he’s... you know... _sick_.”

They get in line at a stand with neon lights that read ‘POPCORN’. Matt nods.

“That’s true. But you know he’s not going to be happy if he finds out what Shiro said to you, right? He won’t understand.”

“And he won’t. Just because I can’t do the heavy stuff with him, doesn’t mean I can’t challenge him at all. I could... Oh! I could walk up and say ‘Hey, _Mullet_ , want to see who can finish this entire bucket of popcorn first?’”

“And have him throw up? You might as well ask Shiro to rip off your head and put it on his nightstand.”

Lance sighs, “That’s true. And also extremely specific.”

He racks his brain for other, calmer dares.

‘Hey _Mullet_ , I bet I can pick up more girls than you.’ Well, Keith’s gay, so it wouldn’t work in the first place. ‘Hey _Mullet head_ , I bet I can pick up more guys than you.’ Keith’s the epitome of awkward and unflirtatious, so, no. ‘Hey _Mullet man_ , want to... see who can read faster?’ If his goal was to put Keith to sleep, then sure.

The truth is that Lance won’t be able to get back to the group and have a challenge lined up for Keith that would get him excited like their other, intensive dares. Or, probably, ever again.

It was just a stupid, little thing. But it was _their_ thing. It was how they ‘bonded’ over the years. It was the fuel of most of their interactions. How else would he keep their friendship afloat if he had nothing to offer him?

Lance was so lost in thought he hadn’t realized they were now first in line. He nudges Matt and asks, “Aren’t you going to order?”

“Oh, I’m not really hungry. You can order what you want.”

“Then why did you...”

Matt shakes his head, “It was nothing. Just order.”

When they return to the group with two buckets of popcorn and candy for everybody, they resume watching. Lance can’t help but notice Keith’s sudden disinterest in the movie, as he instead focuses on picking at the thread of his onesie. He tries to get his mind off of it, but he can’t. He made Keith upset. Keith, who he’s supposed to help feel better after all of this.

It nags at the back of his head for the rest of the night, and when they’ve reached a pit stop and he’s in his sleeping bag later, listening to the chorus of his friends’ snores, he stays awake for a long, long time.

*

When they wake, Shiro decides everyone is hungry, and they’re going out to eat breakfast.

“I can’t find my shoes,” Allura says as everyone is getting up and taking turns in the bathroom getting dressed, though she hasn’t moved an inch and hasn’t yet attempted to look for her shoes.

Matt grabs a bag of chips and tries to rip it open with his mouth when Shiro appears next to him, taking it from his mouth and placing it back on the counter.

“But, _Shiro_ -” Matt begins to whine, when he’s shushed by Shiro’s finger pressed to his lips.

“No buts,” Shiro says with mock sternness, “We’re eating as a family, whether you like it or not.”

Matt nods solemnly with flushed cheeks, likely from being scolded by a grown man while being a grown man. Lance laughs and shakes his head at them.

Once he finds his checkered vans and belt, Lance takes his turn in the bathroom and brushes his teeth, but not before running his thumb across the bristles and ensuring it’s dryness. _No one dies today,_ he thinks.

“Does everyone have what they need? Are we ready to go? Where’s Keith? Is Keith awake yet?” Shiro says, assuming the position of Dad In A Crisis as everyone is doing their own thing and looking for their own stuff. Lance, on the other hand, is the only one just standing there. He performs the brief task of spinning in a circle and does not in fact spot a mullet anywhere.

“I don’t think he’s awake,” Lance answers.

Shiro pats his front pockets, then his back pockets, “Shit,” He mutters, “I don’t have my wallet on me. Can you wake up Keith, please?”

Lance goes a little dry-mouthed at that, “Me? You want me to wake him up?”

Shiro, who was previously dead-set focused on finding his wallet, takes a second to look at Lance with a raised brow, “Yeah. Is there something wrong with that?”

Lance, the one person Keith is at odds with right now and would probably roundhouse kick as soon as Lance laid a hand on him, having to step into his room and wake him up as unassumingly as possible as to not startle him? Is there anything wrong with that?

No. Not at all.

By the time he snaps out of his mental dilemma, Shiro is on the other side of the RV, searching through the driver’s seat for his wallet.

He ponders on who he’d rather be suplexed like a rag doll by; Shiro when he finds out he never in fact woke up Keith, and when everyone is ready, Keith is still asleep. Or by Keith, as soon as he spots Lance’s face, of all faces, hovering over his and coaxing him to wake up.

He chooses the latter, and opens Keith’s door, lingering in the doorway.

Keith’s motionless body lays on only the left side of the bed, the right side completely untouched, blankets pulled almost over his head. He’s on his stomach, head turned to face the window. The haze of the sun streaming in and the near silence of the room gives it a dream-like feel, as if it were on a completely different plane of existence from the rest of the RV, dirty and loud and hectic.

Lance partly wishes the ruckus of everyone else getting ready would be enough to wake him up so he didn’t have to. But, alas, the walls are thick and Keith doesn’t stir.

“Hey, Keith, wake up,” Lance whispers. Keith doesn’t move. He repeats it a second time, to no avail.

He figured this would happen. Ever since he was diagnosed, Keith has not only been asleep more often than he is awake, but it’s always been so impossible to wake him out of his dreams. Air horn and whip cream pranks just aren’t the same anymore.

He walks over to the side of the bed with Keith’s back towards him and wonders how to approach this. Should he gently tap him and whisper to him? Would that be weird? It’d definitely be less jarring than shaking him awake. Or should he just avoid touching him altogether?

Lance hovers a hand over Keith’s shoulder and immediately retracts it when Keith twitches. Why is he making this so complicated?

“Lance?” Someone said from the doorway, making him jump. Lance whips his head around to look. It’s Hunk, giving Lance the same confused expression Shiro had just moments ago, “What are you doing?”

“Waking him up,” He says, voice wavering when he realized Hunk had caught him just staring at Keith while he was in the midst of overthinking. It probably looked more disturbing than Lance intended it to, “I- He’s not waking up.”

A frightened look washes over Hunk’s face, and, _shit_ , that isn’t what he meant.

“I mean- no, he’s fine. I just don’t want to startle him,” Lance adds. That seems to relieve Hunk.

“Well, hurry it up, then, because Shiro’s getting impatient.”

“Yeah, okay, sorry.”

And with that, Hunk disappears from the doorway, and it’s once again just Lance and Keith.

Lance sighs and pats Keith, saying, “Wake up.”

“Hmm?” Keith hums, sounding so far away Lance is sure he’s talking in his sleep.

“We’re going to go get breakfast. You have to get dressed.”

“Okay,” He mutters drowsily, and flips over onto his back, eyes still closed.

Lance considers walking away, mission accomplished, when he realizes Keith still isn’t moving an inch.

“Shiro asked me to wake you up and everyone’s getting really impatient-”

“I said okay, fuck,” Keith spits, sounding much less drowsy and much more nettled this time around, enough to send a sting through Lance. He makes his escape in a haste and closes the door behind him.

“Is he awake?” Shiro mutters, sitting on the couch with his keys in his fist and his fist scrunched up in his cheek.

“Yeah,” Lance says, chewing his lip and sitting on the couch opposite from him, “I think I made him a little mad in the process, though.”

“Don’t take it personally, Lance,” Matt says from beside Shiro, “He’s always been a deep sleeper. One time I tried to wake him up from a nap so he could get ready for class and he snapped at me so bad I swear he was going to take a swing at me.”

“The medication he takes before he sleeps knocks him out cold, so he’s usually grumpy when he wakes up,” Shiro says.

“Medication?” Pidge asks.

“The injections the hospital gave him before he left. He doesn’t take them everyday, but when he does, he’s out like a light. It’s the most he can do, or is willing to do, at this point to... to save himself, I guess.”

“I don’t understand,” Allura says, looking solemn, “Has he just given up? He’s not... he’s not looking for other hospitals that’ll try something new for him? I mean, even if the doctors have given up, it doesn’t mean he has to, too.”

“He’s in pain, Allura,” Shiro says, who is now leaning forward with the heels of his hands rubbing into his temples, “It was a hard talk with him, but... he said he just doesn’t want to try anymore. He’s given up hope, and there’s nothing I can say or do that’ll change that. I can’t force him to do anything, as much as I wish I could. It’s his choice.”

Keith steps out of his bedroom, and walks into the bathroom. They all stop talking at that precise moment, listening to Keith brush his teeth.

“What are you guys moping around for?” Keith asks once he’s done, eyebrow pinched high, “Let’s go. I’m hungry.”

They all get out and follow behind Keith. It’s as they step out of the RV that Lance realizes they’ve been parked outside of a Waffle House this entire time.

They find a booth once they’re in, and their waitress strolls over, long blonde hair swaying as she walks.

“G’morning guys. I’m Nyma, and I’ll be your server for today. Can I start you all off with some drinks, or are you ready to order?” She says, the Texan reeking in her voice.

They all order a hefty amount of food, and when Nyma’s eyes land on Shiro, they widen subtly.

“And what can I get for you?” She asks, giving him a brighter smile than she’d given anyone else. A blind person could’ve noticed the interest in her face.

“I’ll just take the Angus Burger with fries, thank you,” He says, returning the smile.

“Of course, I’ll just take up your menus. By the way, you all aren’t from this part of Texas, are you? We usually only get locals, here, and I’m sure I would’ve remembered you.” She says, making it sound like it’s towards everyone, despite having only Shiro in her focus.

“No, we’re not from here. We’re actually on a road trip heading out of state,” Shiro answers.

“Oh, fun!” She says, popping her hip out, “What for?”

No one makes a move to answer her. Shiro and Keith make eye contact from across the table, and Lance figures it’s that close brotherly bond they share that leads Keith to answer for Shiro.

“Just for fun, I guess.”

“Oh, well, that sounds great,” She seems to come to her senses, and straightens up, “I’ll go put these orders in and have these drinks out to you guys soon, okay?”

They send her a chorus of ‘thank you’s, and she’s gone. Chaos ensues.

“Oh my God, the sexual tension,” Pidge bangs her head softly against the table.

“My bisexuality is, just... flourishing at this very moment,” Lance adds, fanning himself with a coaster.

“I almost felt like I had to leave the room,” Hunk says, “I mean, honestly, the heart eyes were a little too much.”

“What?” Shiro says, clearly confused, “What are you guys talking about?”

“Oh,” Allura starts, shaking her head in disappointment, “You poor, poor, oblivious little thing.”

“Shiro, I’m the most clueless person I know when it comes to someone flirting with me-” Keith begins, before Lance cuts him short.

“Mostly because they’re not flirting with you at all,” He says, and God knows where he finds the courage to interrupt Keith, after he’s probably pissed him off more times than he realizes on only the first few hours of their trip. But, he’s glad he does it anyway, and Lance wouldn’t be able to tell you why, but when Keith bunches up a napkin and tosses it at Lance’s head, he has to stifle a smile.

It’s not the most insignificant of interactions- hell, it was technically supposed to be a hostile one- and it doesn’t mean Keith has forgiven him, but it felt so familiar to what their friendship was like before the trip, before Lance realized they couldn’t continue doing the crazy shit they used to and he couldn’t keep antagonizing him. But, as innocent as it was, it was enough to bring that feeling back, even if it’s only temporarily.

“Anyway, like I was _saying_ , as clueless as I am, even I could tell that girl was throwing hard signs your way.”

“You think so?” Shiro says, bashfully, as he looks back over his shoulder in her general direction, “I mean, she seemed pretty normal to me.”

“Get her number,” Allura persuades, “Your love life is so dry, it’s a shame.”

Lance barely picks up on the mumble from Matt that is, “She’s working, that’s inappropriate.”

“That’s obviously not stopping her,” Lance whispers in return. Matt’s mouth sets in a hard line and says nothing else.

“Alright, so, guys, enough about Shiro being so oblivious it physically hurts,” Keith stops to shoot a smirk at Shiro, “I have an announcement to make.”

“You’re pregnant,” Hunk interrupts, before hanging his head in shame “God, I should’ve stopped Lance’s creepy staring sooner-”

Lance kicks him hard enough under the table to make Hunk yelp out loud.

“No, I’m not preg- What?” Keith asks.

Lance has never wanted to kill pleasant, lovely Hunk, but the idea seems appealing now.

Lance manages some sort of damage control, “Nothing, literally nothing. I mean, does anything Hunk says ever make sense?”

Keith sends them both odd looks, but lets go of it anyways, “So, I have an announcement. I figured it was kind of pointless for me to have to sleep in a queen-sized bed, when I compulsively sleep on only the left side of a queen-sized bed, while you all have to crowd up in the living room. Since _someone_ ,” Keith pauses with intent, “won’t let me rotate the bed with all of you guys, I thought of a middle ground. I figured, for our mutual benefit of freeing up space in the living room and for me to be less cold at night, I would pick one person everyday to share the bed with me.”

Nyma comes by with their drinks and hands them out. She leaves, but not before shooting Shiro a grin, of course.

“Oh, come on, Keith,” Matt whines, “You know you’re only going to pick Hunk each time. I mean, who wouldn’t want to sleep next to him?”

Their table goes silent as they contemplate the question.

“I can’t think of anyone,” Shiro says.

“Hitler?” Lance questions, frowning.

“Well, even if I do pick Hunk every night, at least you guys would have less people to fight to get to the couches first. Do you guys have any better ideas?” Keith asks.

“Well... you could cycle through all of us, just to make it fair. Like, pick certain days for each of us. Maybe have the last day for yourself, as well.”

Keith sits on it for a bit, before, “That’s... actually a better idea. Good thinking, Pidge. And what if I left the last day up for whoever I pick? Maybe, whoever I like the most by the end of the week?”

“Still Hunk,” Allura mutters.

“The Bed Olympics,” Matt deadpans.

“That sounds sexual,” Lance says.

“This will _not_ be a sexual thing, by the way, so don’t make it seem like it is” Keith adds, getting everyone’s attention once again, “Not that I’d want to have sex with any of you, by the way.”

“Yeah, didn’t really think so,” Pidge says as she taps a salt shaker against the table.

“Alright...” Nyma says once she’s returned with a tray full of plates and rich smells, “Who ordered the bacon and waffles?” Pidge raises her hand, and she slides the plate over to her, “And... the Angus Burger? Wait, never mind. I remember,” She says, and gives Shiro her plate with yet another grin.

Once she’s gone and everyone’s got their food, they dig in. They go on and on about how oblivious Shiro can be, providing historical proof, and Lance may or may not have created a power point slide of evidence and presented it. While he bows, the old couple on the booth next to theirs clap along with them.

“Alright, so, who’s paying?” Pidge says cheerfully, folding her hands on the table.

“Everyone. You all can carry your own weight, can’t you?” Shiro responds, still finishing off his fries. He looks up to find everyone’s staring at him. He rolls his eyes, taking out his wallet, “Fine, you babies.”

“Thanks dad,” Pidge says as Nyma walks up to the table, and cuddles up into Shiro’s arm. Nyma’s eyes widen, not so subtly this time, and she sets the check on the table without a word.

“Uh oh. Guess she’s not into guys with kids,” Matt mocks.

“Or maybe it’s because he ordered lunch for breakfast,” Pidge points out.

“Oh, come on, that was nothing. I bet you could still get her number if you tried. Go up and talk to her!” Hunk urges. Lance looks over, and she’s standing by the cash register, looking bored.

“You think I should?” Shiro says.

“Yeah! We’ll go wait outside for you. Go get her, tiger!” Lance practically pushes him out of the booth. Shiro grabs the check and his card, and walks over to her. He shoots them a frantic look over his shoulder and misses the way she brightens up as soon as she sees him.

They leave the restaurant, but linger at the windows. It’s so cheesy and gushy, the way she smiles and laughs at every little thing Shiro says, which Lance knows is for show, given that Shiro isn’t nowhere near that funny, but it’s nice. It’s nice to see Shiro getting out there and attempt at something that might make him happy.

“They’re going to make such pretty babies,” Allura says dreamily, watching them through the window as she turns over his palm and writes something in it.

“Alright, guys, I’m going to head to the RV, I’m getting kind of tired,” Keith announces, before turning to go to the RV, “Text me if they get married.”

“I’ll come with you,” Matt says, and they walk back to the RV together.

When Shiro comes out minutes later, he’s glowing. “Her full name’s Nyma Barnes and she kissed me on the cheek.”

“We saw,” Hunk laughed, “Ready to go, player?”

Shiro looks behind him. Nyma waves at him through the window. Shiro laughs and waves back.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

*

When Keith rises from his bedroom after his nap, Shiro has been driving to their next destination for an hour.

“Where are we going next?” Pidge pounces, jumping on the balls of her feet in front of him, “Please tell me we’re going to an arcade or something, I’m dying to get my hands on a game that isn’t Candy Crush. Looking at that girl with the pigtails is giving me a fucking headache.”

Keith backs away from her and opens the fridge, taking a can of soda. He collapses onto the couch in between Lance and Allura. Her eyes are focused on the Planet Earth documentary playing on the television.

“I can’t tell you, it’s a surprise,” He pops open the can and takes a sip of it, before he’s grimacing and swallowing it with a hard gulp, “Jesus fuck, why does this smell so bad? Did you ever get the smell out of the fridge, Allura?”

“No,” She says, eyes still glued to the screen that displays a gibbon monkey hanging from a tree, “I gave up on that a long time ago, but at least it doesn’t stink the entire place up,” She glances at Keith, before eyeing his drink, “Can I have some of that?” She doesn’t wait for an answer before she’s chugging it.

“Can you at least give us a hint?” Lance asks. He’s been bored out of his mind for the past while they’ve been in the RV. He’s asked Hunk if he could try one of the meals he prepared, a salad, which tasted as good as it looked, which wasn’t surprising all that surprising since Hunk works part-time as a cook at a local restaurant near their school. He borrowed Pidge’s laptop and played the chess program she downloaded on it, which he quickly gave up on considering he doesn’t know how to play chess. He and Matt tried to make Shiro sneeze while he was driving with the feather on one of Allura’s pens she’d brought along for some reason. He did a dramatic reading of one of Allura’s creative writing pieces she’d done for one of her elective classes, which he had to stop short because he got more emotional than he intended. And, now, here he is, watching a documentary on gibbons.

“Well,” Keith starts as he looks down into the hole of his newly-empty can, “I can say that it’s more like we’re getting something than going somewhere. I can also say that it’s one of a few things on the list I had to _convince_ Shiro into letting us do. Do we have more soda?”

Pidge gets another soda from the fridge and tosses it Keith’s way, which he catches, “We’re _getting_ something? Is it a singular something or a plural somethings? Because that makes a lot of difference.”

“It’s a singular something that we’ll share- At least, for the time being,” Keith stares at his hands cupping the drink, “I don’t know what’s going to happen with it... after the trip.”

Everyone’s quiet for a bit, the hum of the car the only sound accompanying them, until Keith takes in a breath and smiles, looking at the television, “So, what are you guys doing? What’s this?”

When Allura, the only other person who’s been watching the documentary this entire time, is obviously too captivated to answer, Lance jumps in.

“Well,” Lance lowers his voice to a near-whisper, feeling the need to not disturb Allura’s entrancement. He leans carefully into Keith’s space as they look on at the screen, but not close enough to earn him a kick in the head, “Here’s a black-cheeked gibbon monkey in the middle of a rainforest, somewhere in Asia I think- I can’t be too sure, Pidge won’t let me turn up the volume- but he’s doing this mating dance. There’s this girl he’s trying to impress, but she’s just showing no interest. He even tried singing for her, the poor guy’s trying so hard. But I don’t even think he knows her name yet.”

Keith turns his head slightly to look at Lance, voice equally as quiet, “I’m not too versed in gibbons, but they mate for life, don’t they?”

Lance realizes Keith’s eyes are a lighter brown from this distance. He leans farther back into the couch, “I mean, you’re asking the wrong guy, but I think they do.”

Keith hums in curiosity and turns back to the television. Lance realizes he’s become just as enraptured as Allura when he doesn’t say anything else.

Lance bites back a smile. Maybe they didn’t need dares and goading to bond. Maybe they just needed a lovelorn monkey.

He watches on for a bit longer, as the female finally becomes more interested in the male. They get closer and closer, until they’re close enough to kiss (Lance makes a mental note to google later on if monkeys even kiss), and then they start fucking on the spot. The animal kingdom holds no modesty. Lance doesn’t bother holding back a chuckle.

Allura cries happy tears, Keith does a silent toast, raising his drink to the monkey on the television, and Lance wonders what that must feel like, to finally get the one you want most in this world.

Soon after, the RV comes to a rolling halt. Shiro gets up from his seat.

“We’re here.”

Everyone rushes outside to find they’re parked in the middle of a small plaza, in front of an arcade with glowing red lights.

“Keith, you told me we weren’t going to an arcade?” Pidge asks.

“We’re not. _This_ is what we’re here for,” Keith points to the left of the arcade, towards a much smaller building.

‘Poos and Pooches’ the large letters above the front doors reads. It’s not a flattering name, but the wagging tails and fuzzy faces looking at them through the windows greatly makes up for it.

“No fucking way!” Matt cheers as he rushes over the windows to get a closer look at the dogs, “You’re getting a dog!”

“I wanted you guys to help me pick out a dog that we could bring along. And, maybe, one of you guys can take it in, after all of this is over- Hunk, are you okay?”

Everyone turns to look at Hunk. Tears are obviously welling up in his eyes, but he looks away, “No- Yes, I’m fine!”

Shiro laughs. “Come on guys, let’s get a dog!” He ushers everyone towards the door. Everyone gladly obliges.

Lance is instantly hit with a wall of new senses as he walks through the door. Dogs bark as they catch sight of the group, leaning up against their barricades and standing on their hind legs, or sticking their faces through the bars of their cages. The different shapes and colors of each product catch his eye as he looks at the shelves that wrap around the entirety of the walls. The sign is realer to life than he expected, as, underlying every unique smell of each dog and hair product and dog food, there is, in fact, the smell of shit.

An older woman in a white and gray uniform approaches them, “Welcomes to Poos and Pooches, guys. I’m Melissa. Can I help you?” Lance wonders if she ever gets embarrassed saying that.

“We’re looking to adopt, actually, but we’re not sure what we want yet,” Keith answers.

“Well, feel free to look around! There’s plenty of dogs here just waiting to find a home. They all have had their proper vaccinations and are healthy. If you need me, I’ll be at the front desk,” She walks off with a smile and a nod.

The group of them dissipates as they all separate, looking at and petting each dog within arm’s reach. Lance kneels beside a puppy pen with baby pit bulls. Some are fast asleep in the corners of the pen, while others rush over to nibble at his fingers.

“Oh,” Lance hears Pidge sniffle, “I want all of them. Can we get all of them?”

He gets up, reluctantly, from the pen, and continues down the line, looking at and playing with each and every dog in every pen possible. He reaches the back of the pet shop, where larger and older dogs are kept in cages, some alone and some with two to three dogs. Like the pens, their breeds and ages are displayed on small cards taped to the cages.

He sticks his hand in a cage with a single Boston Terrier that looks just about ready to jump out of the cage. It rubs his head against the palm of his hand.

“Jesus,” Hunk sighs from beside him, “How are we going to pick only one?”

The sad truth of the matter was that, even though every single dog in this shop deserved to get adopted, a lot of them weren’t going to. The dogs with the best chances were the puppies near the front, which were probably more attractive to consumers than the older dogs. It was upsetting to come to terms with the reality that they couldn’t just scoop up every dog and take them home. They were all just teenagers and young adults living in apartments that were either too small or didn’t allow dogs, and just simply couldn’t afford caring for even one. Except for Hunk, who probably owns more dogs than he has toes.

Lance shouldn’t be getting so melancholy in the middle of a dog shop, but he can’t help it. It’s an upsetting thing to see.

He approaches the dogs toward the very back wall. They all seem eager to greet them, as their barks get louder until he turns their attention on them. Well, all except one.

When Lance reaches the final cage, he thinks it’s empty, until he realizes there’s a dog scooted up against the back corner, where the light barely reaches him. It stares at him, and doesn’t make a sound. He reads the dog’s card.

He’s a ten year old English Cocker Spaniel. He’s been neutered, and has had more vaccinations than most.

“Hey, boy,” Lance calls, wagging his fingers at the dog to get his attention. It blinks at him. He calls again, “Hey, boy, you okay?”

He sticks his hand in farther, until it’s almost close enough to brush against the dog’s side. It stands up and barks at him a single time, as if it’s a warning. It’s enough to startle him and make him hit his head against the bars as he draws his hand back.

“Ow, fuck,” He grunts, “Sorry.”

The dog still stands on guard, staring at him with watchful eyes.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, okay?” He reaches back in, more carefully this time. The dog backs away into its corner and away from Lance.

He can’t imagine what this dog has been through to be so untrustworthy of him.

“Someone hurt you, didn’t they?” Lance says, as he leaves his hand flat on the floor of the cage, so if the dog wants to make the first move, he can, “Me and my friends, we’re good people. We won’t hurt you, not like that other asshole, I promise,” He folds himself in a squat so he can see the dog better, his knees tucked against his chest and his head resting on his knees, “We’ll- We’ll get you a little doggy bed, and feed you the best snacks ever. I’ll even give you some of my pizza rolls when they’re room temperature- just so you won’t burn yourself. And I don’t share my pizza rolls with anyone. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

The dog seems to hesitate before it begins to sniff Lance’s hand. He sticks his tongue out and licks the skin between his fingers. Lance strokes his ears with the tips of his fingers until it finally lets itself be fully pet and scratched.

Lance ushers the dog closer to the bars, where he can see him better. When it does come forward to lick Lance’s nose, there’s one person that instantly pops into his head.

It’s jet-black fur is long, almost unkempt-looking, and covers its eyes. There are a few patches along its head that are graying slightly. It’s long and skinny, with somber eyes. It’s nearly instantaneous, the way his heart swells as soon as it steps forward into the light. He’s fallen in love with this dog.

“What a good boy,” Lance coos, scratching behind its ears as it closes its eyes with joy.

The sudden, “Hey,” In his ear is enough to, yet again, make Lance jump and hit his head against the iron bars of the cage. He turns to find Shiro smiling fondly at him and the dog.

“Forming friendships already, I see,” Shiro says, scratching at the dog’s ears as well. It recoils away from him slightly, “You’ve been over here for quite a bit.”

“There’s just... something about this dog, man. We have to get him. Has-” He looks over his shoulder at the rest of the shop, which he forgot existed, and all the smells and senses that disappeared for a bit come to him at full force, “Has Keith found one, yet?”

“No, he’s still looking, but I can go get everyone to see what they think.”

“Yeah. I’ll go get the worker to see if she can let him out.”

Shiro rallies everyone up as the employee unlocks the cage and puts a collar around the dog, leading it out and in the open. The other dogs begin to bark like mad. It hesitates behind the legs of the woman.

“Is he scared?” Keith asks as he watches the dog try and walk back into its cage.

“Yeah,” She answers, “He definitely has one of the more troubled backgrounds, compared to the other dogs here. He was rescued from a rundown barn, alone and nearly starved to death. No one even knows who the owner was, but the fucker-” She stops and sighs, “Sorry. The- The person who left him, left him with... no right eye. It was hard getting him to trust all the workers at the shop, and getting him to eat, but he has and he does. It’ll be a while, getting him to trust you guys, but it’s worth it. He’s one of the best boys here,” She crouches down to pet him before she cups her hand around her mouth, “I say that to all the dogs, just to make them feel special.”

“No wonder you felt so close to him,” Shiro says, just low enough that Lance can hear, “He’s trusted you, right from the start.”

As Shiro and Keith get the paperwork done and pay the adoption fee, the rest of them standby, looking at the dog through the bars of it’s portable cage.

“Can’t believe someone would do something so fucked up,” Hunk huffs, “I can’t imagine hitting one of my dogs, let alone blinding one of them.”

Once they’ve gotten all the medicine, food, and washing products the dog could possibly need (Lance paid for squeaky toys while Hunk bought the bed), Matt carries the cage to the RV. He sets it down when they get inside.

“Should we let him out now?” Allura asks, “What if he’s still afraid of us?”

“First, Lance, set down the bed in that corner over there and put the toys in it,” Hunk says, assuming control, “Pidge, pour some food into bowl and put it next to his bed. I know you guys aren’t going to like this, but you should probably try and stay away from him for right now, just let him come to you first. Don’t crowd around him and touch him, that’ll just scare him. Also, try and give him treats whenever he does show interest in you, like sniffing your hand or licking you- it’ll get him to trust you easier. And, whatever you’re doing, make sure you’re doing it quietly, like talking or watching TV, it could scare him. It shouldn’t take long before he’s comfortable enough with all of us, and the RV.”

“Wow, Hunk,” Shiro says, sounding impressed, “You know your shit.”

“If Shay were here, she would be turned on,” Lance says, wiggling his eyebrows, “I know I am.”

“Ew, Lance.” Allura groans.

“Lucy was a rescue dog and was scared shitless of anything that moved. She wouldn’t even come out of her cage the first day I brought her home, so I spent that entire night googling how to make her trust me. Lance, open the cage door,” Hunk says, smiling to himself, “Also, I’m flattered.”

Lance does this and unlatches the door. He doesn’t come out. Everyone’s still, watching him.

“Should- should we leave?” Pidge whispers.

Just then, his paw sticks out. He’s sniffing the air. He comes out fully, and he’s looking around skittishly.

“Let him get to his bed, then we can start moving.”

When he’s done sniffing around the living room, and their legs, he walks towards the kitchen. When he walks towards the fridge, he stops to gag. Everyone begins to move towards him in panic when Hunk stops them with a raise of his hand.

“Stop. It’s just the smell. Don’t crowd him.”

“We really need to get that smell out,” Keith says, wrinkling his nose.

Finally, he reaches his bed, where he sniffs his toys, bites them a bit, and then relaxes into his bed. Everyone cheers dramatically in silence, with Hunk raising Pidge onto his shoulder, Keith fist pumping in the air, Matt throwing his arms around Shiro, and Lance crying into Allura’s shoulder. The dog looks on, more confused than terrified.

“Okay, guys,” Hunk says, once they’ve recovered, “I think we should be good. Just remember to keep quiet,”

“I won’t have any problems with that,” Pidge says as she collapses onto the couch, a comic book over her face.

Allura sits on the very edge of the couch, where she can get the best view of the dog without being too close, “What are we gonna name him?”

“Oh, God, please don’t let Keith name him,” Pidge’s voice comes out muffled by the pages of the comic.

“And why not?” Keith asks, burning a glare through the cover of the book as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Because you’d name it something stupid, like Thunderstorm Darkness, or... or _Yorak_ ,” Pidge visibly shudders.

Keith is obviously forcing down a smile, “That would be a cool name, though, wouldn’t it?” He looks towards the dog, putting on his impression of a baby voice, “Wouldn’t you like that, Thunderstorm Darkness?”

“Okay- Yeah. We’ll have to take a vote. Anyone have any suggestions? Preferably none of them from Keith?” Shiro asks, purposefully ignoring Keith’s raised hand.

“What about... what about Mullet?” Lance says, and it comes out quieter than he intended. He instantly wants to fly out a window when Keith’s hand falls and Hunk opens his mouth.

“Hey, isn’t that your nickname for-” The daggers Lance’s eyes are sending Hunk’s way are enough to make him shut his mouth.

“Mullet...” Keith mumbles, like he’s mulling over it, trying the name out on his own tongue. He eyes the dog, who stares back at him with a tilt of the head, “I like that name.”

“Does anyone object?” Shiro asks, and when no one answers, “No? Alright, then. Mullet it is. Welcome home, Mullet!”

“It does kind of look like he’s growing a mullet, though, doesn’t it? Let’s keep it that way,” Allura says, “Though, it could use a bit of grooming.”

“We can take care of that when he gets more comfortable around us,” Hunk agrees.

“What time is it?” Shiro yawns.

Hunk lifts his wrist, “Two fifty.”

“Well, looks like someone else is going to have to drive, unless you guys want me to fall asleep behind the wheel and crash into a tree and we all burn and die.”

“That was... extremely unnecessary,” Keith starts, “But I don’t want to spoil the next surprise for anyone.”

“Well, we can stop for now, can’t we? So I can get a nap in?” Shiro says, as he’s already getting comfortable on the couch.

“I guess so. I mean, while we’re here, we might as well look around while they nap,” Keith says.

“What about that arcade?” Hunk suggests.

They all look out through the front window, towards the flashing neon lights.

“You know what?” Pidge rips the comic book off of her face, “Sleep is for the weak, let’s go,” She gets up, and she’s the first one through the door.

“Watch Mullet!” Hunk screams at a napping Shiro as he’s pushed out the front door.

*

Once they’re each finished buying their own cupful of tokens, Hunk rallies them up. They listen to him as lights flash behind his head, painting his face in a flurry of colors. His words are nearly drowned out by the screams of children and adults alike.

“Okay, considering Shiro takes the longest naps of anyone I know-” He pauses, “Sorry, Keith- The second longest naps of anyone I know- I’d say we have two hours before we should head back. So, say, at around four, we all meet up here?”

No one’s really paying attention, eyes focused on the flashing games behind Hunk. Lance has already set his eyes on a vacant pinball machine. But they all nod nonetheless, and they’re off.

It takes a few punches here and a few shakes there, but the handles to the machine finally budge. He knocks the ball against a miniature Ferris wheel, and it shoots straight into the hole, scoring him a thousand points. It brings him back to when he and his family used to live in Cuba when he was younger, his and his sibling’s only entertainment being the old, dusty pinball machine in their basement that their grandfather gave them. They would crowd around it for hours at a time, fighting each other for a chance to play. Maybe that’s where Lance got his competitiveness from. He should really give them and their mother a call soon.

When the balls run out and his turn is over, tickets shoot out of a slot in the front of the machine. He could just sit here all day, raking up tickets and hogging the machine, but what would be the fun in that? He stuffs the tickets into his cup, and continues on to a game where you have to get a hook into a plastic fish’s mouth that obviously isn’t interested.

When he feels like he’s finally got it, a hand on his shoulder makes him jump, and the fish escapes. He slams a hand on the game, making it shake.

“Sorry about that,” Matt says, as he watches the fish swim away, “But Keith found a four-way air hockey table, and Hunk and Pidge are too busy being lame and playing trivia games, so we need another player.”

Lance follows Matt as they walk through the hoards of small children running from frantic adults, spotting a Subway Surfers game he makes a mental note of playing later on.

“Alright-” Keith claps his hands once they’ve arrived, “Who’s on whose team?”

“No offense,” Allura starts, “But you and Lance get a bit scary when you compete, so I’d rather be across from both of you than be standing right next to one of you. I pick Matt.”

“Fair enough,” Keith mutters, as everyone gets into position. He’s a warm presence next to Lance. They stare down Allura and Matt across the table, “But prepare to get your asses handed to you.”

“We have to raise the stakes a bit, though,” Matt says, before popping one of his own tokens into the machine’s coin slot, “The winners get five tokens each from the losers.”

“Make it ten,” Lance challenges.

“Deal,” Allura and Matt accept in unison.

“If you lose this for us,” Keith says under his breath as he sets a puck down in front of them and air begins to billow out of the little holes in the table, “You’ll get what’s coming to you.”

Lance can’t help but feel a bit threatened, “Oh yeah? And what’s coming to me?”

“Me stealing all your tickets and using them to buy- you see the stuffed minion over there, at the shop?” Keith points over his shoulder, “It’s mine.”

“A minion? Really? What about the-”

“The minion,” Keith deadpans, and that’s all he needs to know.

“Did you see that?” Allura mocks, “Keith just adjusted his gloves. He’s in it to win it.”

“Oh, but so are we,” Matt says, giving them a mean glare. He can be ruthless when he wants to, Lance has learned that over the years.

“You play defense, I play offense,” Lance says, and before Keith can even open his mouth to protest, Lance is smashing his pusher into the puck, sending it flying across the table. It hits just left of their goal. Matt and Allura spring into action, and collectively push it into Keith and Lance’s goal.

“Yeah! One point for Mallura!” Matt yells. Allura goes in for a chest bump and is sent flying a few inches backwards with the force of Matt’s excitement.

“Mallura?” Lance scrunches up his nose, “Sounds like a disease.”

“You’re just mad you’re losing.”

“Hmph. And _you_ call _me_ impulsive,” Keith grunts. Lance gives him a look.

“It wouldn’t’ve went in if you were defending the goal.”

“I was! I wouldn’t have had to block their shot if only you made it in the first time around. They didn’t even pick up their pushers!”

“Hey- Okay. You got me there. But I have the best aim out of the both of us, okay? I just got a little excited. I’ll get this next one in, promise.”

Lance does not, in fact, get the second one in, as he misses the goal by a long shot and sends the puck knocking into the left corner, and straight back into their goal. Allura and Matt didn’t even need to move a muscle to win that point.

Lance turns to Keith with a sheepish grin. Keith looks back at him with a hand on his hip.

“I’ll guard the goal,” He surrenders before Keith can start yelling, who mutters a ‘yeah, you will’ under his breath.

Keith lines up his first shot and takes it, sending it from one side of the table to the other in a blink of an eye, but Allura blocks it and sends it right back to him. They hit it back and forth between the two of them until Keith misses it by the smallest bit and it flies by him, straight towards Lance. Lance blocks it, and it sails to the middle of the table, where Matt reaches for it, but Keith gets to it first and slams it right into their goal.

“Yes!” Keith yells. He holds his hand up for a high-five and Lance gladly takes it. There must’ve been some kind of miscommunication somewhere, though, when Keith laces his fingers through his hand, shakes it in the air a little bit, and then lets it go. It’s a simple act of congratulations, yet Lance feels like he’s won more than a single round of a single game of air hockey where the stakes are about as high as the price of a piece of Laffy Taffy. Needless to say, it knocks the wind out of him.

The rest of the game goes smoothly as Keith takes shots and Lance slaps the puck away whenever it nears their goal, and even gets them in the lead by a point, until they’re in their second from final round.

Before Matt can pick up the puck from the return holder and place it back on the table, the slight and persistent huff of breath beneath every noise and scream around them. He turns to look at Keith who looks too pale and breathless to just be playing a game of air hockey.

“You alright?” Lance asks, trying not to let his worry be heard in his voice, “We can stop the game early. Should I get Shiro?”

Keith waves him off, but doesn’t look him in the eye, “I’m fine, we don’t need to stop. Allura’s lining up her shot, c’mon.”

Lance sets his pusher in front of their goal and tries to ignore the slight tremble of Keith’s arm in the corner of his eye. The good, rational angel on his shoulder tells him he shouldn’t let Keith do this, he’s obviously getting tired, he could faint, they should stop this now. But the other angel, one Lance wouldn’t necessarily consider ‘bad’, is telling him not to worry, that Keith’ll be fine, just like he said. There’s no reason to go the extra mile and get Shiro.

Allura shoots her shot, and it would’ve gone cleanly into their goal hadn’t it been for Keith interjecting it’s path and sending it right back where it came from, but Matt and Allura don’t miss a single movement. It goes back and forth like a tennis match for a while, minus the suggestive groans filling a silent court, until Keith sets down an arm on the rim of the table to steady himself, side knocking into Lance’s.

Lance doesn’t see exactly where things went wrong, if Matt put too much energy and adrenaline into a particular shot and sent the puck flying, or if Allura just ended up getting frustrated and threw the damn thing in any general direction, but when he hears the puck clatter on the floor somewhere behind them, he sees Keith holding onto the right side of his face like he’s been shot.

From across the table, Allura and Matt are wearing identical faces of shock. Lance is sure he is, too.

“Shit,” Keith laughs, yet it’s pained, “That hurt.”

“Keith,” Allura rounds the table, tears already welling in her eyes, “I’m sorry- I didn’t think I hit the puck that hard-”

“What happened?” Lance asked, incredulously, as Keith stares at the floor with wide eyes.

“I hit the puck and- and it hit the rim of the table and it flew right into his- shit, Keith, I’m sorry.”

“Is there blood? Are you bleeding?” Matt reaches them and takes hold of Keith’s gloved hand gently, pulling it away from his face, “Can I see?”

He isn’t bleeding, thankfully, but there’s definitely a hell of a bruise blooming on his cheekbone where the puck made contact.

They draw curious looks from passerby, but for the most part, no one pays them any mind.

“We should get Shiro,” Allura suggests, “He’ll know-”

Speaking of the devil, Shiro turns the corner around a Wheel of Fortune game and jogs towards them. Lance blanches.

“Have you guys seen Hunk? Mullet’s been acting- What’s wrong?”

He eyes them all, before his sights land right on Keith, holding his cheek.

“What did you guys do?” He asks, “Keith, move your hand.”

Keith stares back at him. Shiro moves his hand himself, and sighs at what he sees.

“Christ, Keith. What the hell were you doing?”

Keith gives him a warning glare and puts on a mocking baby voice, “What are you gonna do, kiss my boo-boo and put a band-aid on it?”

Shiro scowls. “What the hell has gotten into you? You got hurt, Keith, and you know exactly why. You didn’t listen when I tell you you should be careful-”

“I’m _fine_. I can take care of myself.”

“Are you sure about that? Because it sure doesn’t look like that to me.”

Keith looks away with disdain, “Get a fucking grip, Shiro. You’re not my dad, and I’m not a kid anymore.”

Shiro’s eyes go wide with something just beneath full-blown rage, “Me? Get a grip? You’re the one who needs to understand that you can’t be going around, doing everything with vigor like you used to. You’re not as strong as you used to be, Keith, and I don’t think you get that. Hell, your doctors told me you shouldn’t even be standing up for longer than half an hour! You were getting dizzy, weren’t you?”

Keith straightens up and shrugs off Matt and Allura, though he looks like he can barely steady himself.

“Not strong enough, hmm?” Keith says, before he pushes past Shiro so roughly he nearly knocks him over. He stomps off somewhere, likely back towards the RV.

“Fuck- Keith!” Shiro shouts, though Keith is out of sight by then, “I didn’t mean that,” He huffs a sigh and cards a hand through his hair, “Lance, can you go after him? I have to find Hunk. Mullet bit my hand while I was trying to feed him a treat and I just don’t want to mess anything else up.”

“He’s with Pidge playing trivia games towards the back. I’ll go get Keith-”

Before Lance can run off, Shiro places a hand on his shoulder to still him.

“Please, just tell calm him down and tell him I’m sorry. And that we’ll talk later. And, you and I.”

Lance sighs, he should’ve seen that coming. He walks away and through the front doors of the arcade, squinting his eyes at the stark difference between the darkness of the inside and how light it still is outside.

He looks around the parking lot of the plaza, ensuring that Keith hasn’t just wandered off instead of going back to the RV, and unlatches the door.

When he steps inside, Keith is backed up to a corner with his hands up as Mullet growls at him.

“Lance! I-”

Mullet’s eyes land on Lance. He growls at him, baring all teeth.

Lance throws his hands up as well, having no tangible idea of what the fuck he’s doing, but he slowly lowers himself to the ground to come to a crouch in front of the dog.

Keith whispers from beside him, “Should we make a run for it, or-”

“-Mullet, baby,” Lance coos, cringing at himself internally, “It’s Lance. Don’t worry. We’re not going to hurt you,” He reaches out a hand with his palm up and speaks gently, “Mullet, come here.”

Mullet doesn’t move, so when Lance tries to lean forward a bit, he barks at him. Keith makes a sound beside him, and Lance would glare at him if he dared look away from the dog for even a second.

“Shh, you’ll scare him. Mullet, come here,” He holds his hand out once again, “Keith, look out the window and see if they’re coming.”

Keith supposedly does this, and says, “They’re not.”

“Good. I don’t want them to scare him into attacking. Do what I’m doing. But get down slowly.”

He feels Keith sidle up beside him and crouch so their hands lay directly before Mullet, ready for either the sniffing or the taking. Hopefully the former.

Thankfully, Mullet does walk up to them and sniff them both up the arms until he allows them to pet him. Lance faintly recalls an article on fearful dogs, though he read it thinking he’d never have to use it, during a period where he was not only very very paranoid, but also very, very bored. “Just scratch beneath his mouth, not his head.”

“Why?”

Lance finally lets himself look away from the dog, and at Keith, who looks much more relaxed than he did when he was leaving the arcade, which Lance had all but forgotten until now, “Do you want to get your finger eaten and then shat right back out?”

“No, thank you.”

“Then don’t ask, just do.”

Keith nodded and shut his mouth. They sat there in silence for a while, petting Mullet and reveling in the moment he allows them to scratch behind his ears.

“Uh, Shiro said he’s sorry. And that he’d talk to you later.”

Keith scoffs and gives a humorless chuckle, “Yeah, I’m sure he’s sorry.”

“You know he’s only heard on you because he loves you, right? As cliche as it sounds, he’s just trying to protect you.”

Keith ignores him, saying, “We can move, right? My legs are killing me,” He stands, runs a hand down Mullet’s back, and sits on one of the couches. Lance would be astonished at the fact that Mullet follows him and sits at his feet, if he weren’t dealing with the stubborn boy at hand. Lance sits on the floor besides Mullet, looking up at Keith.

“Shiro loves you and you know that. We all have to face a fact here, and that’s that you’re not as strong as you used to be, just like Shiro said. You’re weaker now, and you can’t go do fuck all like you’re on steroids or something. I mean, I saw how... pale you were getting, back there. If it wasn’t the puck, it would have been hitting the floor that would’ve earned you a nasty bruise. All of this could’ve been avoided if you’d just said you weren’t fine, which, obviously, you weren’t.”

“If it was so _obvious_ ,” Keith replies, snide, “Then why didn’t you say something about it? Why’d you just let me continue playing if I was so _obviously_ not fine?”

Lance readjusts his sitting position. What is he supposed to say, that he listened to the bad angel on his shoulder and didn’t want to get him angry? That he was being so selfish that he’d rather run the risk of Keith getting hurt or fainting than face his wrath when he went and tattled on him? That, for some reason, he was afraid of Keith being even the smallest bit angry at him?

“I don’t know,” Lance shrugs, “I knew you’d respond the same, either way.”

Keith hesitates, turning his entire body to face Lance before saying, “Did- did Shiro say something to you, after the whole announcement thing? I remember seeing you two walk out, and then come back and Shiro was being all vague. Did... did that have anything to do with me?”

And yet another dilemma. To release all of his insecurities regarding his and Keith’s friendship and the secret promise he’d made to Shiro to treat Keith like he was a physically fragile being that could never truly be himself ever again, or not to release?

Lance shakes his head once again, “I was wondering of the timeline of it all, when we would leave and when we would come back. I didn’t want to talk to you about it because you were upset.”

Whether or not Keith saw right through that boldfaced lie, Lance can’t tell. It’s hard to read Keith these days. But he can’t help but feel guilty nonetheless.

“But,” He clears his throat, and re-positions his legs once again, “Like I was saying, don’t make Shiro the bad guy here, because he isn’t. You have to realize how much this hurts him, slowly losing you and all. It’s going to hurt him the most, since he’s been with you since you were born. You’re all the family he’s got. Of course he’s going to get protective over you. Do you get that?” When Keith doesn’t say anything, just stares through the front-facing window of the RV, Lance pats his fingers against the cushion beside Keith’s leg, “Can I get some confirmation, or something? A yes? No?”

Lance would’ve missed it if he weren’t looking for it. Even if he was expecting it, it shakes him to his core. The glistening and shimmering of a tear slipping down his face, right over the bruise and across the planes of his face to where’d they sit and dry at the base of his neck and the summer sun seeping through the windows would soak them up and make them her own for another, sadder day.

Keith crying was a sight beyond foreign. Sure, he’d seen him cry during Titanic, and to be fair, everyone cried at that movie (Hell, even Shiro did, and Lance is sure his emotions are as rock-hard as his abs).

(What? He’s allowed to observe a fine specimen when he sees one.)

But this is on a whole other, personal level. He was baring a side of himself to Lance, allowing himself to be openly vulnerable. Lance is pretty sure that means something.

Keith finally raises a hand and wipes away at his tears, not bothering to hide the action. He lifts the hem of his shirt and rubs it against where the tears fell, “You probably think I’m a baby, right? First I can’t handle the simplest of fucking tasks without blacking out, and now I’m crying over something so... so...”

 _Stupid_ , Lance knows he wants to say, but doesn’t truly feel it. This is the farthest thing from stupid, and they both know that.

Lance shakes his head, “I don’t. I think crying is one of the manliest things you can do,” He says, sincerely.

Keith laughs a wet and guttural laugh, “Of course you’d say that, you do it all the time.”

Something lifts in his heart at the upturn of his lips.

He squawks in indignation. “ _All the time!?_ Name the last time I cried.”

Keith doesn’t even have to think before saying, “Last week when we were out getting food with Hunk and Pidge and we passed by that car with the really tiny windshield wipers.”

“They were so adorably pointless,” Lance mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And then a couple of weeks before that, when Pidge showed you a picture of a squirrel meme-”

“-Alright, alright, alright. I get it. But I guess that just makes me the manliest guy I know.”

“No, that means Hunk is the manliest guy you know.”

Lance stifles a laugh in the crook of his elbow when he fakes a cough. Suddenly, the situation just feels a whole lot better.

“Does it hurt?” Lance asks, tapping his own cheek. Keith nods.

“Like a bitch. But, honestly, there’s not many times these days where something, somewhere isn’t hurting. Like, right now, I have a fucking killer headache, but you probably can’t tell.”

“No, I can’t. Do you have painkillers?”

Keith nods. Lance gets up, “Where?” He asks.

“In my suitcase, floor of the closet, very front pocket, there’s a bottle of Advil.”

When Lance fetches that, he goes to the fridge and opens it, getting hit with that unwavering stink. He turns back to Keith with two cans in his hands and his shirt pulled over his nose.

“We don’t have water, and I’m pretty sure you don’t want the water from the water filter, so, Coke or Sprite?”

Keith makes a face like he’s thinking. “A... Coke.”

“Good choice,” Lance says, before tossing it at him. It hits the back of the couch, and Lance grimaces. Right. Slowed reaction time, he’d remember reading on an article about brain cancer- Keith’s cancer, glioblastoma multiforme, in particular (Which he read, not because he was very, very paranoid and bored, but because he was very, very scared for his friend).

He hands him the pill, and Keith chugs it with a single gulp. He also hands him a pack of ice they were originally going to use to make their drinks colder, but he figures they can make an exception for the situation. Lance sits on the couch across the Keith.

“I think this might be the first semi-deep talk we’ve ever had,” Keith laughs, yet it comes out snuffly and gross and if Lance were any other person, he’d find it endearing, “in our- how long have we known each other?”

 _Three years and two months,_ Lance thinks, but says, “I don’t know. Too long.”

Keith laughs, before he stops and smiles melancholy at the floor, pressing the ice pack to his cheek, “Sad it took me dying to get us this far.”

“Oh, God,” Lance groans out loud with a toss of his head on the back of the couch, causing Mullet’s head to rise in interest, “You really have to ruin the moment and get all angsty on me? And to think you were growing on me.”

And, for the first time in a long time, Keith genuinely smiles at him. It’s not a smirk, it’s not laced with humor, it’s not because they’ve just tag-teamed a prank on Hunk and saw it work out dashingly. It’s because he wants to, open-hearted and unfeigned.

He’s reading too much into it, as per usual with all things Keith related, but he sees it like it’s a gateway. A gateway that leads to everything raw and real and _him_. Shiro, Allura, Hunk, Matt- they’ve all seen this side to him, for some even before Lance was in his life. He’s just the late-comer. But, somehow, he’s okay with that.

“-not sure how Mullet’s going to react-” Shiro is in the middle of saying as the rest of them pour inside, seeking out the dog in question. When they do, their eyes fall on Lance and Keith.

Keith’s smile falls right off his face when they walk in. And, with that, so does Lance’s.

“So you’ve tamed the beast,” Shiro says once he’s walked in, and it isn’t clear which beast he’s talking about, but when he spots Keith’s supposed lack of happiness, he stops joking.

Keith gets up and walks to his bedroom, leaving the door open ajar.

“Well,” Shiro says, “Sorry to cut your arcade time short, but I think we should start heading out if we want to make it to the next place soon, though we probably won’t get there by the time it closes. Just- get comfortable, I guess. I’m gonna go talk to Keith.”

Mullet trots off to his bed and away from everyone, laying with his head on his paws. Shiro disappears into Keith’s room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Pidge falls back onto the couch and puts her comic book over her face, resuming the nap she barely started. Allura clicks on the TV, lowers the volume, and searches for another animal documentary to watch. Matt and Hunk observe Mullet from afar. And, Lance, well.

“I’ll be right back,” He says to no one in particular, dropping Allura’s neon pink visor on his head in passing, and hops down from the front door’s threshold and onto the pavement below. He rushes into the arcade, bypasses all the games he wish he’d got to play, neglecting to even think about retrieving his cup of tickets and tokens from where he left it on the air hockey table, hoping whoever finds it truly deserves it, and walks straight to the front desk.

“Hi,” He greets the lady at the front desk with the most charming smile he can muster. He tips the brim of the visor lower.

“What do you want?” She asks, looking at him like he’s nothing more than a pest.

“I want that,” He says, pointing through the glass in the prize counter, not bothering to check what ‘that’ even is.

“You mean the sticky hands?” She asks. Lance nods and eyes the walls.

When she bends over to take the prize out of the counter, Lance swipes the minion off the counter and takes off. He sets it down beside Keith’s door.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me @lithelouie on twitter i love u bye


End file.
